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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038297">Kissing In The Rain│Spencer Reid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniorgman/pseuds/juniorgman'>juniorgman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Canon Universe, Coworkers - Freeform, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Drunk Texting, F/M, Falling In Love, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Kidnapping, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Psychological Trauma, Secret Relationship, Strippers &amp; Strip Clubs, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved, True Love, Undercover, Undercover Missions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:27:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniorgman/pseuds/juniorgman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Holy shit. Leather satchel. Sweater vest. Curly brown hair. Cut jawline and dark under eyes. There’s absolutely no way. Absolutely not. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening.<br/>But it was happening. Dr. Spencer Reid stood just below you in the bullpen, showing no recognition of you in the slightest, a perfect poker face. He gave you a half smile, introduced himself and sat down at his desk as if nothing at all had happened. You stood next to Hotch, trying to recollect your thoughts, trying to process the fact that you slept with your coworker without actually knowing he was your coworker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One: DIVE BAR</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a few things before you start:</p>
<p>1) I haven't written a fic in a long ass time so bear with me. It's also my first time writing on AO3 so I'm still getting used to the formatting and all.<br/>2) Theres no explicit sexual content, but there is mentions of sexual content, innuendos, drinking and drug references so its rated Mature.<br/>3) This is based off Spencer's hair in Season 6 (including boyband hair from the S5 finale, hehe). I'll be referencing some cases from S6.<br/>4) Italics are thoughts (sometimes its emphasis on a specific word), bold is text messages.</p>
<p>Ok I think thats everything. Please enjoy and please be sure to give me feedback. My Instagram is @gublercafe :)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Holy shit. Leather satchel. Sweater vest. Curly brown hair. Cut jawline and dark under eyes. There’s absolutely no way. Absolutely not. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening.<br/>But it was happening. Dr. Spencer Reid stood just below you in the bullpen, showing no recognition of you in the slightest, a perfect poker face. He gave you a half smile, introduced himself and sat down at his desk as if nothing at all had happened. You stood next to Hotch, trying to recollect your thoughts, trying to process the fact that you slept with your coworker without actually knowing he was your coworker.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a few things before you start:<br/>1) I haven't written a fic in a long ass time so bear with me. It's also my first time writing on AO3 so I'm still getting used to the formatting and all.<br/>2) Theres no explicit sexual content, but there is mentions of sexual content, innuendos, drinking and drug references so its rated Mature.<br/>3) This is based off Spencer's hair in Season 6 (including boyband hair from the S5 finale, hehe). I'll be referencing some cases from S6.<br/>4) Italics are thoughts (sometimes its emphasis on a specific word), bold is text messages.<br/>Ok I think thats everything. Please enjoy and please be sure to give me feedback. My Instagram is @gublercafe :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>CHAPTER ONE: DIVE BAR</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rain outside your Virginia apartment fell so hard you genuinely thought it might break the vintage glass that adorned the west side of your new home. After moving here a month ago, you figured the rain wouldn’t come until at least September, but here you were Mid-July trying desperately to grab the clothes hanging to dry on your patio before they were washed again by the downpour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously, upping your entire life in Southern California and moving to rural Virginia hadn’t been your original life plan. You clung to vibrant cities your entire life, trying to recreate the buzzing, busy, colorful feelings of your single trip to New York during high school. Los Angeles had been the closest thing to skyscrapers you could find after getting your doctorate at CalTech, so you stayed there while working on internships in the surrounding area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being much younger than most of your peers, finding jobs and bosses who actually trusted you to do your job was more difficult than expected. You were incredibly smart, very driven and well-read, but perhaps there was something about a beautiful 23 year old woman with a doctorate that intimidated the industry professionals. You’d try and try to get some kind of job pertaining to your actual specialty, Criminal Psychology, but instead you’d be contacted by grade schools looking for a child psychologist to listen to 13 year olds’ dating drama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until you were contacted by SSA Hotchner that you actually felt of use. You had gotten back from an excruciating day of let downs and job interviews, and when you flipped open your laptop to watch hours of Netflix and eat copious amounts of comfort food, you saw an email from the FBI Academy, and more specifically, the BAU. You had briefly trained at the FBI when you were working on your doctorate, out of their training facility in LA. You had the basic knowledge of guns, you knew how to arrest people, and you’d taken enough Law Enforcement classes at University you’d probably be able to teach the class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The short, but incredibly to the point email from SSA Hotchner stated that, because of some “references” (who would even know you well enough to reference you to the FBI of all places?) he felt as though you could join the BAU as an intern, and that your Criminal Profiling expertise would desperately be needed. You knew Hotchner was at least partially right. Top of your class, doctorate at 23 and a masters thesis that was taught to younger students by your professors as an example of ‘furthering the effectiveness and study of profiling’ you were one of the youngest and brightest faces in the field. The opportunity came to you just as you were starting to give up on your dreams, and it was a welcome sign of change. You packed your bags as soon as possible, told your Los Angeles roommate to find some aspiring star off the street to live with her, and you got out of the smoggy, flat city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You started work tomorrow at the BAU. As daunting as that idea was, you were more than excited to prove yourself to SSA Hotchner, as he’d told you multiple times that he expected greatness from you. Finally you really felt like you were being taken seriously. Looking back on all those times you broke down crying just inside your apartment door after being sexualized, ignored, underestimated and mocked at internship after internship. You pulled on a jacket and you grabbed your lanyard with your keys. You were going out drinking to celebrate, you definitely deserved it. Having no friends in a new town, you weren’t going clubbing or partying, but the dive bar at the end of the street was calling your name. Call it depressing, but the dingy dark interior of a bar was sometimes the best way to celebrate by yourself after a long journey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling your jacket over your head, you jogged quickly down the street, hiding under awnings and into doorways whenever possible to avoid the downpour ruining your freshly washed hair. You dipped into the dive bar and the familiar scent of alcohol, old wood and dust filled your nostrils. There were only a few people littering the room, and the early 2000s pop music that played quietly in the background almost made the bar seem pathetic. You slid onto a bar stool and ordered a rum and Coke quietly from the tired-looking bartender. You heard the Happiness by the Fray come over the speakers and chuckled to yourself. The song brought back a lot of nostalgia for you, and you suddenly remembered the vinyl cover-turned-poster of this album that hung on your bedroom wall in high school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat in your nostalgia for a few minutes until the stifling humidity that hung around you was washed away by a cool breeze coming from the now opened door. You could smell the rain as you looked over to the tall, thin figure who shook off his jacket and wiped his leather shoes on the torn-up door mat. The very first thing you noticed when he stepped into the low hanging yellow light of the bar was the dark circles that adorned his hazel eyes. He didn’t just look tired, he looked emotionally and physically exhausted, as if the weight of his day job sat on his shoulders, preventing him from sleeping. He also happened to look incredibly handsome at the same time. His wavy brown hair was cropped just above his ears, and his sweater vest hung off his shoulders tiredly. The handsome stranger sat a few stools down from you, not even looking up from his book as the bartender made him a drink without asking what he wanted. He must be a regular, you thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about this pretty, tall boy really intrigued you. You couldn’t tell if the alcohol had gone to your head and you were just craving human connection, or if the fact that he was flipping pages of his book much quicker than anyone could, or should, be able to read, but you wanted him. He was drawing you in without even trying, without even noticing your unwavering eyes on him. And then the song changed, and he looked up as if trying to find the source of the tune. ‘More of You’ by Mozella was to thank for him finally looking in your direction, and you caught his pretty eyes in yours. And he didn’t look away. You sat in the dive bar, two seats away from each him, unable to pull your eyes from his. He picked up his brown leather satchel and scooted onto the barstool right next to yours, his closeness affecting you more than it should. His long fingers motioned to the bartender for another drink and he turned to look you in the eye again. He didn’t have the same calm aura as he did when he was sitting further away. Now that he had closed the gap between you two, he seemed slightly fidgety and shy. As if he had acted on impulse and the proximity was making him nervous. Unable to keep eye contact with you, he looked down at the knotted wood of the bar when he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen you here before. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here, are you new?” his eyes flitted back up at you when he finished his sentence. His voice was addicting, you could get used to this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah I just moved here. I got a internship opportunity here I couldn’t pass up. I just finished school.” You didn’t specify your job, your degree or the exact reason you moved here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t want to go through the entire ordeal of explaining to him how, although it was unbelievable, yes you had a doctorate at 23, and yes you were starting your FBI internship. He was a pretty boy in a dive bar that had your heart feeling like it was going to come out your butt, and by god you weren’t going to ruin what could possibly be an amazing hook-up by blabbering about school. He didn’t seem to have the intention of revealing much about himself either. You asked him the usual introductory questions, but your eyes found his lips while he answered you and suddenly his voice was muffled and your heart was rapidly beating against your ribs. It didn’t take much for him to notice, and you nervously fiddled with your ring as he stood up slowly and placed more than enough money on the bar to cover both of your drinks and tips. And without saying a word, and yet saying a million words, he awkwardly stepped into the hallway at the back of the bar, towards the restroom, and of course, you followed him. You turned the corner and the handsome, awkward stranger had suddenly disappeared. He was replaced with the dingy light illuminating off of the panelled wood hallway, and it made it hard for you to see exactly where the door to the bathroom was. Before you knew it, a hand was reaching out of a doorway and pulling you into a tiny dark room. His lips were on yours before you could even say a word and he hoisted you onto the bathroom sink with ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait wait wait” you breathily pulled away from him, putting your thumb on his bottom lip and grabbing his chin. “I-I don’t even know your name.” He stared into your eyes again and you blinked. Once, twice, three times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Spencer.” And his lips were on yours again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one or two drinks you downed earlier were hitting you, and the lightheadedness of the alcohol combined with the beautiful boy you were kissing in a dirty dive bar bathroom put you into a euphoric state. Your hands were shifting through his pretty brown curls, and his hands moved from the small of your back to the front of your button-up blouse. You slowly undid the buttons of his fuzzy brown sweater vest. He pulled away, panting and trying desperately to open the top buttons of your shirt, and he only got a few buttons down before you grabbed his tie and pulled him back to you, kissing him even harder than before and making you head spin with passion. You breathed out his name, Spencer, as his lips found a place on your neck, sucking and biting deep purple bruises that you would definitely have to cover up for your first day of your internship. You didn’t care. You ripped his tie off and you were just beginning to work on opening the top few buttons of his striped cotton dress shirt when you looked down at his beige slacks and realized that perhaps you really should take Spencer home if you wanted to make an actual impression. As much as you’d definitely get on your knees on a disgusting bathroom floor for him (he was just that pretty), you figured he’d be way more likely to properly ask you out if you did the deed in a less… questionable environment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I live like….” you kissed him again “...literally a block away…” you could hardly get your words out as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you over and over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it seemed like he got the message because he lifted you off the counter and wrapped your hand in his, almost dragging you out of the dive bar and into the rain. <em>Fuck. I should have thought this through,</em> you thought. <em>Now my fucking hair is ruined and I’m soaking wet this is so embarrassing</em>. And although your thoughts were running a mile a minute, you looked over at him and his soft brown hair that was sticking to his face with water, and suddenly you really didn’t care. The two of you almost didn’t make it inside, his lips on your neck outside your apartment building in the pouring rain was addicting, you could just kiss him for hours in the rain, his shirt soaking wet and your blouse nearly see-through. You crashed into your tiny apartment, and for the first time in months you spent the entire night tangled up in sheets with someone you barely knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t stake your crushes on one night stands, but looking over at him, half naked, warm, and breathing softly under your covers, you actually wanted to know the awkward handsome boy. <em>Spencer. Spencer Spencer Spencer Spencer</em>. You repeated his name to yourself as if it was a drug on your lips as you lightly rubbed circles into his collarbone. Your clock read 3:15am and as much as you hated doing this, the reality of your internship in the early hours of the morning meant you had to wake the sleeping boy up. He left your tiny apartment with two things he didn’t arrive with: Small purple bruises decorating his chest and neck, and a black and yellow spotted umbrella that he promised to return to you. You insisted on letting him borrow it, it was an excuse for him to return to your apartment as soon as possible. You wanted him in your arms for much longer than you were allowed that night. You figured, even if he never comes back, even if you never see him again, he’d remember this night whenever he used the umbrella. You kissed him all the way out the door and as soon as it was closed, a giddy smile came over your face. Maybe moving to Virginia wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly you were brushing your hair out of your mouth as you awoke with a start to your alarm blaring. 7:30am. Your internship started at 8:30. Muttering a string of curse words after realizing the time far too late, and hitting the snooze button one too many times, you leapt out of bed, trying to find your jeans and bra that had been strewn around your apartment the night before. Oh… the night before. Most of your rushed morning, and all of the little free time you had before you had to be at the BAU, was spent in the bathroom, color correcting the dark purple bruises that adorned your neck as tiny memories of the pretty boy you regrettably had to kick out of your bed last night. You didn’t even have time to think about him, because you called a cab and you were on your way to FBI headquarters before you knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘More of You’ came on on shuffle on your headphones in the back of the cab, and you didn’t turn it off. You allowed yourself just five minutes to reflect, just a little bit, before the driver pulled up to the curb outside the looming concrete building and you were thrown back into the reality of your internship. Your hard work for years at University had lead up to this moment. You expected it to feel euphoric, but right now all you needed was a cup of coffee to calm your jittery nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were joined in the elevator by five or six suits, feeling incredibly under-dressed in your dark wash jeans and blush colored babydoll top. You thought you looked nice when you left your apartment, having covered up the hickeys incredibly well and molding your hair into soft curls that fell over your shoulders effortlessly. Stepping out of the elevator and onto the shiny concrete floor of the BAU, you looked around cautiously, trying to find the familiar face of SSA Hotchner somewhere in the comings and goings of BAU employees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Am I in the right place? Please god don’t tell me I went to the wrong place and I messed up on my very first day.</em> You nervously looked up and down from your watch when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turned around, slightly flustered, and you were met with perhaps the most eccentrically dressed woman you’d ever seen in your life. Her cherry-red hair was pinned back with an elaborate purple flower pin, layered necklaces covered her entire neck and her bright smile was enough to make your day. You immediately smiled back at her and she spoke to you in the kindest voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be Dr. Y/N Y/L/N” she held out her hand for you to shake. </span>
  <span>“I’m Penelope Garcia, resident badass technical analyst, and also your advisor! I’m just here to answer questions and show you around our offices today, but usually I’m working with the team on the technical side of a case.” she brightly smiled up at you, just slightly shorter than you were even with heels on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my goodness thank god, I’m seriously freaking out. I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing. Do you know SSA Hotchner? Of course you do, what am I even saying. Where is he? Will I be able to talk to him today? I heard you guys have a jet? Is that for real? That’s so cool-” you rapid-fired questions at her as she blinked and raised her hands to stop you from losing your breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold your horses Pretty Girl, so many questions, so little time.” There was a deep voice behind you and you turned to see a man smiling handsomely at you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked behind you to Penelope and chuckled. “Looks like we have a Reid 2.0 on our hands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was Reid? What is that even supposed to mean? You shyly laughed under your breath and he turned to introduce himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“SSA Derek Morgan. But you can call me Morgan.” He was handsome in a much different way than Spencer, but he wasn’t as much your type. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>Stop Y/N don’t think about Spencer right now you literally don’t even know if you’ll ever see him again. </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Morgan sauntered away, Penelope grabbed the inside of your arm and dragged you through a pair of double glass doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the bullpen. This is where most of our team’s offices are.” she pointed to each desk, naming the member of the team that sat there. The office was deserted at the moment apart from Morgan, but you could see a woman with pitch black hair getting coffee in the far corner, who you assumed was Agent Emily Prentiss. Your eyes lingered on the desk which Penelope named as Dr. Spencer Reid’s. You chuckled to yourself remembering Morgan’s comment. What a coincidence that this Dr. was named Spencer. <em>Dammit I’m thinking about him again.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Penelope brought you into SSA Hotchner’s office, you briefly spoke to him, something about being excited and grateful for the opportunity. In all honesty, you were incredibly nervous and you were on complete autopilot, only hoping that the words falling out of your mouth made some kind of sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, call me Hotch.” Hotch spoke only after you had word-vomited all over his desk, like you had to Penelope and Morgan earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love for you to meet the rest of our team. Come out to the bullpen with me and I’ll introduce you.” You smiled to him and agreed, but on the inside you were flipping out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Is he really going to make me have to stand up and introduce myself to a bunch of strangers like some kind of sick performance?</em> You thought you were going to actually vomit. He put his hand on your shoulder and led you out to the walkway above the bullpen, everyone's attention immediately on you, of course, as the newcomer. You did your best to make eye contact with everyone there. Who you assumed to be Agent Prentiss smiled as you introduced yourself, Morgan and Garcia chuckled as you went on a bit of a tangent about your journey to the BAU, and you recognized Agent Jareau from quite a few news briefings of cases you had studied while at college. Of course you knew David Rossi, standing by the doors with a cup of coffee in his hand, but there was one missing. One empty desk and you couldn’t quite figure out just who should occupy it until Hotch spoke from behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure you could join us Reid, this is our new intern Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. She recently graduated with a doctorate from your same Alma Mater.” he spoke towards the double glass doors and at first, due to his awkward fumbling with his coffee cup in one hand and leather satchel in the other, you couldn’t recognize him, but then…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit. Leather satchel. Sweater vest. Curly brown hair. Cut jawline and dark under eyes. There’s absolutely no way. Absolutely not. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was happening. Dr. Spencer Reid stood just below you in the bullpen, showing no recognition of you in the slightest, a perfect poker face. He gave you a half smile, introduced himself and sat down at his desk as if nothing at all had happened. You stood next to Hotch, trying to recollect your thoughts, trying to process the fact that you slept with your coworker without actually knowing he was your coworker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch gave you a rundown of where your desk would be, the only open spot in the bullpen, he gave you a stack of papers to sign and a pat on the back and you tried not to just sit at your desk staring at Spencer in shock. He hadn’t even spared you a glance since he sat down and he was going about his paperwork innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>You needed to talk to him. You couldn’t just act like nothing had happened, right? There had to be some kind of conversation, right?</em> So you waited until he stood up gingerly from his desk and sauntered over to the coffee station. Checking behind you to make sure nobody was looking, you followed him at a quick pace, grabbing his hand before he could reach the coffee machine and tugging him into a supply closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey- hey wait w-what?” he looked over his shoulder and then back at you as you closed the door to the closet as quietly as you could. You couldn’t see him that well in the cramped dark room, but you could make out enough to see that he was completely doe-eyed, and genuinely confused as to why you had separated him from his beloved coffee machine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Spencer Reid? Are you <em>SERIOUS</em>?” you whisper-yelled at him as he slowly put his hands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to god I had no idea. Hotch didn’t even tell us we were getting a new intern until this morning. I only put the dots together as I was coming into the building. I’m sorry Y/N, I really had no idea.” his left hand dropped to his side and his right hand went up to his brow, rubbing his temple as if he was thinking as hard as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay well,” you crossed your arms “what the hell do we do now Spencer? Obviously this can’t continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely not”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely. Not at all. Totally inappropriate, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup. Definitely not appropriate. Hotch doesn’t approve of internal relationships in the team”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok well that settles it. Glad we’re on the same page.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Cool. Great.” he nodded slowly along with his words and scratched the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for just ten seconds, and then with complete disregard to the previous conversation, he was pushing you up against the wall, kissing you as hard as he had the night before, but this time it was like he was starving. Neither of you had a chance to breathe even for a moment. He kissed you like he hadn’t kissed you in years, hands exploring every inch of your body, sending chills down your spine and giving you goosebumps. His hands were in your freshly curled hair and although a part of you was extremely mad that he was ruining your beautiful creation, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long when he was kissing you like this. His lips traveled from yours, across your jawline and just as they reached the bottom of your neck he suddenly stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are they?” You had no idea what he was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night, we were both<em> covered</em> in them. I buttoned up my shirt all the way up my neck to hide them. Where are yours?” and you realized he was talking about the bruises that littered your neck and chest under the makeup. You slowly stepped back and lifted up the very bottom of your babydoll shirt, where he had left just one bruise on your hip bone compared to the many on your décolleté. He smiled in contentment when he saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I covered them up with makeup, <em>Doctor</em>. Couldn’t have everyone in my new workplace seeing what you did to me.” and there was a shit-eating grin on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second you got home, you took a makeup wipe to your neck. The bruises that were a light red this morning had turned completely purple around the edges, but the clear imprint of his teeth was still left on your skin. You blushed and flopped down on your bed. You felt like a high school girl with a crush. Your heart hadn’t fluttered like this in a long time. Scrolling through your text messages, you answered questions from your best friends back home, your parents’ well wishes and you looked at a few twitter notifications before your thumb came to rest over a certain text message conversation. It contained only two lines of text, and your cursor blinked over the type box as if it was begging you to start a conversation with the recipient.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: Spencer</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sunday, July 19</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SPENCER: Thanks for letting me borrow your umbrella. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Good luck with your internship tomorrow.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I hope we can do this again sometime.</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Read, 4:10 AM</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>ME: No worries Spencer! Thanks for last night. I had a great time. Let me know when you’re free again. </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Read, 4:12 AM</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You shakily tapped on the type box and wrote and re-wrote your message about six times before sitting back and reading it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>New Message:</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>Hey, it’s me. I apologize if this is too forward, but, do you want to come over tonight? I ordered a pizza :)</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You clicked send, hoping you didn't just make a horrible decision.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BONUS POINTS IF YOU CAN GUESS WHAT TV SHOW RELATIONSHIP INSPIRED THE BAR SCENE!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two: TURBULANCE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yay chapter two!!<br/>I started a case in this chapter, and I greatly commend the writers of CM for their amazing work, because that shit was hard.</p>
<p>Warnings:<br/>Mentions of sex, sexual assault, kidnapping and murder. The case details are quite graphic so please have discretion while reading &lt;3</p>
<p>As always, italics = thoughts, bold = emphasis<br/>I hardly proofread this so I'm sorry if there's errors, I'm gonna edit it tonight.</p>
<p>Enjoy the angst, don't be mad at me, and let me know what you think in the comments! My Instagram is @gublercafe :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> New Message:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Hey, it’s me. I apologize if this is too forward, but, do you want to come over tonight? I ordered a pizza :)</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You read and re-read the message at least twenty times in the time it took Spencer to begin typing. For someone who could read so superhumanly fast, he sure took an awful long time to reply to a single text. You placed your phone face down on the couch and went to your fridge to get out a cold soda, but it was only seconds later that your phone pinged. You jumped on it so fast you almost knocked over your glass of ice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Spencer</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Monday, July 20</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>ME: </span>
  <b>Hey, it’s me. I apologize if this is too forward, but, do you want to come over tonight? I ordered a pizza :)</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Read, 7:28 PM</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>SPENCER:</span>
  <b> I’ll be over in 15.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You breathed a deep sigh of relief. Okay, at least he didn’t hate you. After he had left you in the closet, he’d gone back to acting like you didn’t exist. You knew it was because if anyone even had an inkling of your relationship, your internship would be over before it even started, but part of you wondered if he saw you as a one-off thing. Spencer surely didn’t seem like a one-night-stand kind of guy, but you had a sad feeling in your chest like he didn’t quite see you the same way you saw him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You nearly jumped when the pizza man rang your doorbell a few minutes later, thinking it was Spencer and trying desperately to fix your hair only to end up staring down a pimply kid in a red greasy hat at your door. You took the pizza with disappointment painted on your face and, as patiently as you could, waited for Boy Genius to show up at your door. You chuckled to yourself. That nickname was ever so fitting, and hearing Penelope call him that earlier, you had a hard time not blushing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was one of those people that rang doorbells an obnoxious amount of times if you didn’t answer the door in half a second, which you would generally consider to be insanely annoying but you let it pass because he was just so darn cute. His lips curled into his classic awkward half-smile when you opened up the door. He wore a red MIT crew neck sweater which was at least two sizes too large for him, and the sleeves fell over his hands entirely, one of which held a plastic bag full of dvds. You almost kissed him on the spot. He waved gently and you stepped aside to let him in. His hair was messier than usual, like it got squished while he was pulling his sweater over his head. He placed the bag on your coffee table and excitedly told you about each of the discs he had brought over while you made your way over to the kitchen to cut him a few slices of pizza. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Your eyes wandered over to the pretty boy on your couch, who was completely entranced by A Study In Pink. You’d decided together to watch the entire Sherlock series chronologically, picking apart the profiling and listening to Spencer spew off facts about how the cases in the show related to actual cases he had studied in University. You folded yourself onto the couch, drinks in hand and peered over at his side profile. Only the front of his face was lit up by the blue glow of the television, and he’d completely wrapped himself in your multicolored knitted blanket. Part of you couldn’t believe that the esteemed Doctor Reid was suddenly wrapped up like a burrito in your tiny apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be very honest, you had kinda expected him over for sex. Of course you had ordered a pizza and had agreed to watching the entirety of Sherlock in one night, but you hadn’t actually thought the night would consist only of Benedict Cumberbatch and fluffy blankets. You thought back to a comment Penelope had made that day about Spencer being slightly unaware of popular slang terms. Maybe the idea of Netflix &amp; Chill to him had genuinely been just that. It’s not that you were complaining, because having a very cute boy cuddled up on your couch was never something to turn down, but you did find yourself wondering if this changed things for you two.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You kept repeating to yourself how you shouldn’t expect anything to go further. You knew how stupid this was. You weren’t even a full time employee at the BAU, you were fresh out of college and completely disposable. Not to mention, you didn’t even know who had recommended you to Hotch, so you didn’t even know who you’d be letting down if you were to fuck up this early. Yet, as stupid as this all seemed, Spencer was a magnet for your thoughts. Although you didn’t show it outwardly, your heart felt like it was going to explode even when he did the most dorky or most plain of things. That very afternoon in the bullpen, when he had gone over for his sixth (SIXTH?) cup of coffee, he pulled his cup away too fast in anticipation, spilling the hot liquid all over his hand. He softly muttered a “crap” and shook his hand out. You blushed silently and returned your gaze to your papers, realizing that if you stared at him any longer, someone would definitely follow your gaze. Even something so seemingly insignificant, his tiny smile to a passing agent or a wave in greeting, made your heart feel like it was going to fall out of your chest. You didn’t even know what people meant by butterflies in your stomach until you met Spencer Reid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was nearing the end of season 3 of Sherlock and you were starting to feel a little frustrated. Cuddled up under his arm was really sweet, it was, but he hadn’t as much as kissed you the entire night and you were starting to wonder if he was friendzoning you. So you spoke quietly over the buzz of the television.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Spencer?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he reached over to the remote and paused the television. He adjusted himself slightly so he could look down to you, and you got a nose-full of freshly washed laundry smell. God he was so cuddly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We- we need to talk about… this” your fingers tapped absentmindedly on his sweater. He looked a little confused so you sat up out of his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not someone who beats around the bush with this kind of thing so I’ll say it outwardly. I really like you, Spencer, I really do. To be very honest, I kinda invited you over expecting sex, and it’s not that I don’t enjoy watching tv and nerding out, it’s just that I want to make sure we’re on the same page about this.” he blinked a few times before frowning and responding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I don’t know what to say, I thought you just wanted to have pizza and hang out, I didn’t realize— I’m sorry?” he seemed slightly ticked off, so you reached out to put your hand on his lower arm and he tugged away, shuffling off towards the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, Spence- no I didn’t mean it like that. No- wait, Spencer” you slowly got off the couch as you saw him start to look for his keys.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Y/N it kinda just seems like you did.” he snapped at you. You didn’t expect this kind of reaction out of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you being like this Spencer? I’m so confused, one minute you’re making out with me in a supply closet at work, the next minute you’re getting angry when I tell you I thought this was a sex thing? I told you I like you, Spencer?!” you raised your voice slightly at him and he flinched. You instantly felt regret as he grabbed his keys and opened the door, turning around to you, his face halfway lit by the yellow light of the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I like you too Y/N, which is why I thought you’d want to spend <em>time</em></span>
  <span> with me, not just some opportunistic hookup.”. He closed the door slightly louder than necessary and tears slowly fell from your eyes before you locked the door and threw yourself back on your couch, the lingering scent of his cologne and laundry detergent engulfing you. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Neither you nor Spencer said a word out of the ordinary to each other for at least a week at work. To be very honest, you had hardly had any time to see him, much less speak to him during your training. You were basically glued to Agent Prentiss, who had taken on the duties of getting you acquainted to the team. When you inevitably spaced out and glanced around the bullpen unintentionally, the half second eye contact you made with Spencer triggered that sinking feeling in your stomach that made you feel sick. You didn’t know how to fix this. You hated sitting around and pretending nothing had happened, but you needed to try to focus on your new job. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s why you were so grateful Penelope jolted you out of your thoughts and summoned you to the round table room to look over a new case with the team on that next Monday morning. LAPD had asked the BAU to consult on a possible serial killer case just outside of the city. Three women had been found in dumpsters near where they were abducted, all sexually assaulted and their tox screen results had shown they were riddled with date-rape drugs. You tried your hardest not to visibly cringe at the fact that every victim looked scarily like you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The silence in Morgan’s car on the ride to the jet was deafening. You quickly chose his car when you were given the option to ride with him or Spencer. He kept glancing over at you like he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know if it was his place to ask you about it. He opened his mouth and closed it again multiple times before he asked the question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s goin’ on with you kid? You were all chatter earlier in the round table room with Garcia. Is it the case?” he was referring to the near silent whispers you shared with Penelope after she presented the case. She had asked about your multiple silver rings you never took off, and you had told her about the history of each of them and why you wore them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry Agent Morgan. I guess I’m just a little preoccupied. I’m focused, I promise. I’m just deep in thought…” you spoke more softly than usual, hoping he wouldn’t ask any further questions. You had spent the entire day beating yourself up internally for how you had talked to Spencer. The more you thought about it, the more you felt like it was all your fault. Why couldn’t you have just shut up and enjoyed the night without bringing up the “what are we” conversation. It’s not like you could exactly say that to Agent Morgan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why so formal? Relax, pretty girl” you cringed internally at the nickname. “I know it’s hard to see a series of victims who look so much like you. JJ gets that way too sometimes. You’ll get more used to it, ok? Get your head in the game, we need you kid.” Relief washed over you when you realized he thought the issue was with your resemblance to the victims.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah I guess. Thanks Morgan.” you gave him a tiny smile and went back to staring out the window as you pulled up on the tarmac. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The beep of Hotch’s laptop signaling an incoming call from Penelope saved you all from Spencer’s terrifying statistics. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“First victim is Kennedy Tillman. Abducted and killed on July 28th, mother of two. Her infant son was left on her porch in Montebello, Los Angeles in the early afternoon, and it wasn’t until her older son came home that evening to find signs of a struggle on the front porch, along with his baby brother, did he file a missing persons report. Tillman was found the next day 2 miles away in a dumpster behind an old industrial building.” Penelope said all of this with such a monotone voice, it was almost as if she was completely numb to the words she spoke. You wondered if some day you’d get like that too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Our second victim is Trisha Skinner, mother of two, abducted and killed August 1st. Her 3 y/o daughter left on her porch in Whittier about ten miles away from where Tillman lived. A missing persons report was filed by her husband after their daughter ran inside and called him at work. Skinner’s body was found that evening by a couple of students from a nearby high school 3 miles away from Skinner’s home in a dumpster behind a church.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So obviously this guy has some kind of hatred for mothers, perhaps rooting in his own childhood trauma?” Prentiss looked over at you, trying to gauge your opinion. You almost started speaking but you were swiftly interrupted by Spencer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Statistically, children who are victims of abandonment in their early development are more likely to see other parents as a threat to their respective children. Growing up in an unstable household, expecting neglect from his parents and spending most of his time alone could possibly have left the unsub with an extreme distrust of parental figures. It’s likely that his mother left him between the ages of six and twelve, shaping his perspective of adult figures in his life. He would most likely stalk his victims in areas that remind him of his childhood, finding surrogates for his mother to attack and kill.” Spencer spoke with his hands, sparing a glance in your direction before continuing on with his theory as if he hadn’t interrupted you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Garcia, I’m assuming that each of the victims has generally the same socioeconomic status? It looks like the unsub is killing and dumping in a very specific comfort zone, we might be able to deduce the neighborhood he grew up in based off of the types of houses that he abducts the mothers from.” Spencer finished. He noticed you were ticked off, so did Hotch, but nobody else seemed to pick up on it so you let it slide, sitting back in your seat slightly aggressively to make sure Spencer recognized your reaction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold your horses Boy Genius.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>There it was again. Thanks Penelope. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“We still have one more victim to talk about and this one might change the profile just a little bit. Our most recent victim, Dani Espinosa, was abducted yesterday from the front porch of her home in Walnut, southeast of the other two abductions. The particular area of Walnut where she lived is known to be quite an affluent neighborhood. She’s a mother of two, and both of her children were left on the porch in the late afternoon, the missing persons report was filed by Dani’s mother who went to check on Dani after she didn’t show up for her appointment with her personal trainer. Her mother found the children alone inside the house. Dani was later found several miles away in a dumpster behind a car shop in La Fuente this morning. Her ex-husband passed away 3 years ago, her boyfriend has an alibi that’s currently being checked out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You finally had a chance to speak, and even though Spencer raised his hands as if to interrupt you again, you raised your tone slightly and got your sentence out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So clearly he doesn’t just have an issue with those who represent his mother but also with those who are more fortunate than him. Perhaps, growing up, he compared himself to his more affluent classmates and their familial situations. He might have been bullied or he may just be taking his rage out on those who represent what he can’t have. Garcia, check private schools and public schools in affluent areas for students who recently dropped out, or were put into foster care before or during their time at the school. He’s most likely not far out of high school, as the stem of his resentment towards parental figures seems relatively recent.” you tried to speak with as much assurance as Prentiss had in the past, and she gave you a reassuring nod while the conversation continued, making you smile to yourself. You hadn’t noticed Spencer cracking a proud smile before quickly returning to his perfect poker face, but Morgan had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You blamed Doctor Reid when you stepped off the jet into the Los Angeles sunshine, the rays piercing your eyes and giving you a serious headache. He hadn’t shut up about statistics for the rest of the plane ride. The flight was rocky, and due to Spencer’s blabbering about turbulence, you hardly got an ounce of the sleep you so wished to catch up on. Your mind however, was thankfully clearer. You no longer felt the dying need to confront Spencer about the fight. Perhaps, avoidance </span>
  <b>was </b>
  <span>the way to solve this issue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You, Prentiss and Rossi went to the crime scene first, JJ and Morgan went to interview the third victim’s boyfriend, and Spencer and Hotch stayed behind at the LAPD office to go over paperwork and work up a geographic profile. You hadn’t had a lot of field experience yet, and you thought you were eager to work a crime scene until you got to the alley way where Dani Espinosa was dumped. Suddenly, looking at the woman in the dumpster, you weren’t so keen on lunch, or dinner for that matter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wore work out clothes, clearly on her way to her appointment with her personal trainer. Her hair was tied tightly into a ponytail and she lay face down along with several multicolored trash bags. The worst part was her injuries. She was covered in anti-mortem bruising, all the way up her legs and all across her arms. Her fingernails were almost all completely torn out, she hadn’t gone without a fight, and her face was stained with blood and tears. She had clearly been sexually assaulted from the state of her yoga pants, and you had to slightly turn away at the sight. Rossi put a hand on your shoulder in a caring way, and you gathered yourself before starting to assess the crime scene.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head means this most likely was a blitz attack, she was probably facing her door and was attacked from behind with a heavy object like a baseball bat or a pipe.” you started to discuss the victim’s wounds, slowly piecing together the attack. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So he’s probably not strong enough to attack her from the front” Prentiss questioned</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That or he knew she wouldn’t recognize him. It’s an affluent neighborhood, judging from the profile, he probably wouldn’t fit in just by himself, he must have some kind of job that allows him to enter the neighborhood and leave without being questioned, but also not a job that would make him easily trustworthy to his victims.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pulled out your phone and got Garcia on quick-dial</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I do for you kiddo?” Garcia answered with pep in her speech.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, did you manage to pull together that list of former foster kids?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did, but you aren’t going to like the results. I’m looking at at least 9,000 young men and recent graduates in the unsub’s comfort zone who fit into those parameters. I tried narrowing it down to kids who reported bullying but unfortunately it barely did much to change the list.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, cross reference your list of former foster kids in the area with young men working in trade jobs. Plumbers, technicians, landscapers etc.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry kiddo, we’re still looking at at least 400 names. Anything else?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rossi came to your right shoulder and spoke into the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look for young men who have visible physical deformities or handicaps. The sexual component along with the blitz attacks tells me this unsub has self-esteem issues, most likely in the form of consistent rejection or inability to put out. He’s most likely sexually violating these women because he feels like he wouldn’t be able to have a consensual sexual relationship with them in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming right up. I’ll call you back as soon as I have something. Garcia out!” she abruptly hung up the phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You realized it just wasn’t possible to avoid Spencer all the time when only you and him were left at the station. The rest of the team had gone out following leads, but Spencer had stayed behind to keep working on the profile, and Hotch had asked you to stay and help him. You’d exchanged glances with Morgan on the way out, who told you to keep your head up, and then it was just you and the Doctor in the conference room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t exactly the ideal situation to bring up things with Spencer, you knew that, but you also knew that you needed to get the conversation over with. You had bottled up the guilt of your actions for over a week now and it was killing you to pretend like nothing was going on. So you slowly lowered yourself into the seat next to Spencer and took a deep breath. He was running his fingers down the pages of his book quickly, every now and then glancing at the case file or up at the board. He hadn’t acknowledged your presence until you audibly sighed and his finger stopped mid page. He didn’t look up at you, but he spoke into his book.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should say something instead of just sitting there and staring at me, ya know?” he snapped at you. You had figured he was still upset but you weren't expecting that kind of hostility. Now that you think of it, he’d been on edge for a while but you weren't quite sure if it was because of your argument or because of something else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spencer we need to talk about it we can’t just act like nothing happened. I never even got a chance to explain what I meant when I said that. I want to know how you feel Spencer. I feel fucking horrible and if we could just tal-” you spoke with a rising tone, your voice raising in pitch and volume as you went on. You were so incredibly high strung. Stressed because of your workload, tired because of the plane ride, guilty because of your argument with Spencer, and confused because your heart was calling out for him but your mind was telling you to focus. He cut you off mid sentence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to talk about Y/N. We had different expectations and that’s fine, but I really don’t see why you keep rambling on about this. It’s not a big deal. Please, just drop it.” his words confused you even more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why are you acting like a toddler about this Spencer? I mean earlier you were writing on the board with such force I thought you were gonna shatter it. You’re visibly stressed, you haven’t made eye contact with me for at least a week, and you’re snapping at the team left and right. If this “isn’t a big deal” then why are you acting like this?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe because everything isn’t about you Y/N. Did you think about that? Or are you too focused on yourself to realize?” he raised his voice loud enough that you got stares from the cops in the station around you. You blinked tears out of your eyes, and he grabbed his book and stormed out of the station. You watched him walk out of the building with teary eyes before looking down at your hands in your lap. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penelope’s voice startled you. “Am I interrupting something…” she spoke slowly and carefully through the phone. You jumped slightly before pulling your cell out of your pocket. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You had accidentally butt dialed her when you sat down to talk to Spencer. You hoped she hadn’t heard much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry Penny. How’s that list coming along? Did you send it to Morgan?” she didn’t respond and instead she sighed into the phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N. Listen I’m not going to ask what just happened or what’s going on with you and Spencer but I need to know if you’re okay. That didn’t sound good, you seem incredibly high strung.” she spoke softly, her words felt like a hug. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.. yeah I’m okay. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I’ll talk to you when I get back. I gotta go.” You hung up the phone before she could respond. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe because everything isn’t about you Y/N. Did you think about that?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His words echoed in your mind. If he wasn’t stressed because of you, and he probably wasn’t stressed because of the case given the fact that it was pretty run of the mill… what was bothering him and why was he taking it out on you and the team?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three: RHYTHM</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay this has gotta be some kind of record. I had tons of homework and yet I busted this chapter out in A DAY! It’s a bit shorter but I don’t want to make chapters long just for the sake of it. I felt I got to a good stopping point.</p>
<p>SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS CHAPTER. I’m talking Kidnapping, Death, Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Shooting, Passing out, Mentions of Sex and Drugs, Mentions of Drug Addiction, MAJOR ANGST, Mentions of the afterlife &amp; MORE POSSIBLY TRIGGERING OR VIOLENT CONTENT. Please; Read with discretion. I love you and I don’t want you to be hurt!!</p>
<p>yell at me on twitter, @gublercafe!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If it was even possible, Spencer came into the station the next morning looking even worse than he had the day before. You didn’t really realize just how tired he looked until you got a peek under his ball cap, something you’d never picture him wearing, and his appearance shocked you. His already prominent cheekbones seemed to stick out even more under the weight of his tired expression. The bags under his eyes were dark purple, his pupils completely blown and the whites of his eyes tinged with red. His lips were chapped and his 5 o’clock shadow that traveled halfway down his neck was scruffy and splotchy. It wasn’t even five minutes into the briefing that morning that he had already snapped at the Chief of Police, and you thought back to his words from the day before. You had chalked it up to perhaps familial issues, or stress from work, but now you were concerned something was really wrong. He took off his ball cap in the conference room and his hair was matted around his ears from wearing it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked rough, and you weren't the only one who noticed. The entire team had already been stepping on eggshells around him since you all arrived in LA. He hadn’t gone on his usual tyrants of informational expulsion, he had only just muttered things under his breath and been impatient and even cruel to your coworkers when he disagreed with them. Hotch pulled him over to the side multiple times that morning, after which, Spencer trudged back to the group seemed slightly less agitated and more exhausted, almost like a kicked puppy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You sat between JJ and Prentiss, trying to find anything you had missed from the case file when the welcome sound of Penelope’s voice came over the phone speaker in the middle of the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks to our lovely new girl Doctor, I may have found something useful. She said something earlier about issues that can cause disparity in students with different social classes, so I did some deep-dive research on the high school in Whittier, the one near where Trisha Skinner’s body was dumped. I found something interesting. About five years ago, the school newspaper published a column on students reactions to a new field trip program they put in place. With donations from parents and alumni, the school funded a number of field trips, and I’m not just talking about trips to your local aquarium or zoo, I’m talking big-budget private school style trips to places like New York, Paris, Sydney. Most of these were part of the school’s attempt to get more students interested in the art program, but unfortunately the trips were extremely expensive even with donations and the students had to pay a pretty hefty sum to be able to go on them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So by design, only the more affluent students would have been able to go. How did students react to it?” you made your way over to the desk, leaning slightly across Spencer to speak into the phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “That my lovely Y/N is exactly what caught my eye. This column mainly focuses on the opinions of students who actually would have been able to go on the trip, but at the very end there’s a short interview with a male student who was a freshman at the time, Daniel Ruiz. It’s not much, but the entire time he rants and raves about the “unfairness” of the trip program. He said, and I quote, “Why do these cotton brain rich kids get to have better trips just because their daddies persecute people like us for living.”” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Garcia, get us everything you have on Ruiz.” Spencer spoke up for the first time in a while.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One step ahead of you handsome. After his dad was put in jail for armed robbery in his last year of middle school, Ruiz was put into foster care as his mom was deemed unfit to care for him. He bounced around the system until he was eighteen when he left his foster home and dropped out of school in the last few months of his senior year. He got a job at a landscaping company in the area but he hasn’t been at work for about a week, and… oh my god. His mom died of a drug overdose about a month ago.”</span>
</p>
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  <span>“That’s gotta be the stressor. He’s our guy. Do you have an address Garcia?” Hotch questioned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Last known address is an apartment building about ten miles away from the school. I sent his work and home addresses to your tablets.” Garcia hung up the phone swiftly before Hotch raised his voice to the whole group</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay Reid and Y/N I want you to get to his work address and talk to his coworkers. See if they know anything about where he could be. Everyone else, let’s check his home address. Hopefully he’s there and this doesn’t have to turn into a manhunt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
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  <span>You closed the drivers side door quietly as you approached the front of the Landscaping company. Something was slightly off, and Spencer walked in front of you, hand on his gun as he put his hands on the bars that criss-crossed over the glass door.</span>
</p>
<p>
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  <span>“It seems like it’s closed.” He spoke gently. Your eyes rapidly flitted around the front of the office building, and they fell on the open hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
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  </span>
  <span>“Thats weird… It’s supposed to be ope-” when you turned around to speak to him, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Spencer?” you called out, and hoping he had just walked around the perimeter of the building, you drew your gun and turned the corner slowly. You were greeted with nothing but a dry brown alleyway, just a few weeds growing from the cracks in the pavement. Your eyes were drawn to the end of the alleyway however, because not only could you hear a slight rattling, you also saw what looked like rapid movement. It wasn’t until you had made your way down to the very end of the alley and again saw nothing of interest that you got slightly worried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You called out for Spencer again before you began to turn back to walk towards the car and suddenly your ears were ringing and you felt a sharp debilitating pain in the back of your head. Your face was on the rough pavement and you thought you heard a familiar voice call your name before you blacked out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Waking up in a pitch dark room, you were completely disoriented. You tried to pull your hands up to your face to rub your eyes, but they were bound tightly behind your back. All you could hear was water dripping rhythmically onto the cold floor and muffled voices speaking quietly from far away. You let your head fall back onto the brick wall behind you, and as your eyes got adjusted to your surroundings, you started to make sense of where you were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything was a mess of pipes and tanks, the hum of electrical outlets along with a quiet beeping from a router near you made you figure you were in some sort of storage room or warehouse. Only a small stream of orange light came from a grate at the very top of the wall near the ceiling, letting you know it must be sunset, but you didn’t have the energy to call out for help. </span>
  <span>
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  </span>
  <span>That’s when you saw a leather shoe attached to a leg wearing khaki pants. You blinked rapidly trying to focus your eyes on what you were seeing… and then you remembered what happened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god. Spencer. Spencer is that you.” you choked out, your voice groggy and hardly audible over the hum of the electricity. All you needed to hear was an extremely quiet grunt from Spencer to start struggling against your restraints. You needed to get out of here, you couldn’t see his face but you knew he wasn’t okay. You could feel it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N, stop struggling. It’s not worth it I already tried.” he spoke in a soft broken whisper, his voice peaked with exhaustion. He turned his head slightly and with the stream of light hitting him just right, you could just make out his tired side profile from a distance. The entire right side of his face was covered in blood dripping from his hairline. His eyes kept opening and shutting again like he couldn’t see with the light pouring in from the grate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You cursed and started rubbing the rope that tied your wrists together against the wall, hoping you’d be able to fray them enough to rip them apart. Tears stung your eyes when he spoke to you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” he breathed heavily, wincing in pain when he spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spencer, don’t apologize, I’m serious. We can talk about this later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N it’s been hours and they still haven’t found us. If this is the end, I need to tell you how I feel.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God Spencer please stop.” You could hardly choke your words out, your throat was closing from tears. “We’re going to be fine, if you keep acting like we’re on our deathbeds I’m going to freak out even more. I’m sure they’re looking for us. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Ruiz. He wasn’t at his apartment, and it’s been this long.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N, he shot me. He shot me in the stomach and I tried my hardest to stop the bleeding but at this rate I probably won’t be conscious for much longer. I’ve lost a lot of blood. Please…” his voice faltered like he was drifting in and out of consciousness. “Please let me just talk to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
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  <span>Your tears fell hot against your face as Spencer tried to get his words out, but each sentence got less and less coherent until all you picked up was your name falling from his lips until his body slumped motionless against the wall and his chin dropped to his chest. You felt blood rush to your head and you couldn’t do anything but scream. You screamed his name so loud you felt like your vocal cords were going to rip out and your lungs were going to pop. After a long time, your voice went hoarse between sobs as you started to lose your energy. You were lightheaded from exhaustion and all you could manage to get out after a few minutes was a raspy version of Spencer’s name. Your eyes stung with tears when you heard footsteps behind you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I’m glad you shut up. I thought I was going to have to shoot you, I already shot your little boyfriend.” it was Ruiz. He stood behind you, right out of your peripheral view. He was taunting you, his voice chuckling with amusement as he watched you struggle. His hand roughly grabbed the front of your hair, yanking your head up to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
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  </span>
  <span>He wasn’t even nineteen yet, but his eyes showed years of stress that aged him slightly. You almost felt bad for him as he pushed the cool barrel of the gun against your head and threatened you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me bitch. You make even one move towards your stupid lover boy over there and I shoot you both in your pretty little skulls. Is that clear?” his voice tinged with anger and mocking. Chills ran down your spine. You nodded vigorously and he began to untie you from your restraints.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You tried not to yelp when he tied your hands together again and grabbed you by your hair to stand you up. He was just a little taller than Spencer, and definitely taller and bigger than you were. You shuddered when he pointed the gun to the small of your back and started to lead you out of the tiny room. You didn’t dare look back at Spencer when he opened the door, fearing he’d kill you without even thinking about it. You knew what he was capable of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lead you down a dingy hallway and you caught a scent of his cheap cologne. The barred window at the end of the hallway was covered with taped-together plastic bags, blurring the view and making it impossible to tell exactly where you were. He stopped you in your tracks at the end of the hallway by roughly tugging on your restraints and pressing the gun further into your back You blinked rapidly at the sudden light before you heard a gun cocking. You knew it wasn’t Ruiz and you feared he had a teammate until a familiar voice rang off the walls of the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Daniel Ruiz. Turn around slowly and put the gun down. Don’t do anything stupid kid.” it was Rossi. You heard a number of other guns cock as Ruiz swung you around aggressively and placed the gun under your chin, facing up into your head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get any closer and she dies.” he said, fear slightly tinging his voice for the first time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You tried to blink tears out of your eyes to make out exactly who was standing next to Rossi, but multiple flashlights shone into your eyes and you could only make out the figures of who you assumed to be Morgan and maybe Emily or JJ. Morgan stepped into the yellow dingy light slowly with his hands up off his weapon, and Ruiz shoved the gun further into your jaw. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morgan do what he says, please. He already shot Spencer.” you gasped as he tightened his hold around your neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
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  <span>“SHUT UP.” he screamed into your ear and you sobbed, hot tears falling onto your face again, his grip so tight it almost lifted you off the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Daniel… listen to me. I know what it’s like to be the odd one out. Growing up, I could never afford to go to restaurants with my friends during lunch, I never had the luxury of being picked up from school, I never went home to a safe, loving family. All I had was my mom… I spent my entire childhood being picked on and thrown away. I know exactly how you feel.” Prentiss lied her ass off, but extremely convincingly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do I care? Not even my own mother wanted anything to do with me.” Ruiz’s voice cracked. “I tried so hard to get her to talk to me for so long. She’d rather be shooting up on the street than taking care of me.”</span>
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<p>
  <span>You struggled against the restraints, whispering Spencer’s name and trying to get someone to notice the door to their right which led to where he lay motionless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I SAID SHUT UP. SHUT UP ABOUT HIM.” he belted into your ear. “Kid got what he deserved. He’s just as bad as the rest of them, I saw his arm, the fucking Tweaker he got what he had coming.” It’s not like now was the best time for such a revelation, but it finally clicked in your mind why Spencer had been acting so irrationally. He was going through serious withdrawals and nobody noticed. You wished he had just said something, you wished you’d noticed his arm before now. All you could do was sob, your body folding over and your tears running down the barrel of his gun. What happened next was so fast you could barely process it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruiz pulled his weapon from your jaw, and almost as if it was in slow motion, he pointed it directly at Morgan. Before he could pull the trigger, crimson blood splattered across the entire left side of your body, and the tight grip Ruiz had on you immediately loosened.</span>
</p>
<p>
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  <span>You didn’t even think, it’s like your brain was suddenly on autopilot, and you bolted towards the door, towards Spencer. You were turning the handle when strong arms wrapped against your waist and pulled you back, making way for a medical team to bust their way through the steel door. You could hear the muffled sounds of Morgan trying to get you to calm down as you struggled against his arms, but you couldn’t focus on anything apart from Spencer in that moment. You flung his hands away in rage and fell onto the ground before tripping into the small dark room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer lay on the ground in the corner, surrounded by medical technicians, his restraints cut and his brow wincing in pain. You saw a small gap between two of the medics and you flung yourself beside him, your hands reaching out to hold his temples and your tears tripping from your chin. Everything got slightly blurry as he made eye contact with you. You started slipping from consciousness, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you apologized over and over to him. He was lifted out of your view onto a stretcher and you tried your hardest to stand up but your whole world was spinning and you were out like a light before you could even move a muscle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer Reid lay four feet in front of you in a bed of sunflowers. You couldn’t see his face, one of the larger stems was blocking it with a shadow, but his lanky figure gave him away. He wore all white, not a sweater vest or perpetually crooked tie in sight. His cotton top was knotted with string in the middle of his chest, the low neckline revealing his sharp collarbones and swells of lean muscle that decorated his shoulders. His cotton pants, which were characteristically too large for him, hung low on his hips and pooled around his ankles covering his bare feet from the sun. He lifted an arm up to shade his eyes from the sun, and he was calling out for you. You stepped on the dark centres of the sunflowers to cross the short four foot distance. You stood over him, reaching your hand down towards him and feeling his fingers clasp around your wrist. You finally saw his face. It was clear and peaceful, his dark circles around his eyes had brightened, his brow had finally relaxed and his lips looked soft. His hazel eyes were at rest as he looked up at you, and his mouth moved to speak to you. You didn’t catch what he said the first time, even though his lips were moving and words were emerging, you couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. You asked him not once, not twice, but three times to repeat himself, each time his voice fluttered with a little more urgency. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pretty… pretty… pretty....”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He repeated only one word to you and then the sunflower grew over his face again, shielding his eyes from your view.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Spencer? Spence. Spencer. SPENCER”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And you were jolting upright. The gentle glow that had surrounded each bright yellow flower in the sunflower field was replaced by the violent luminance of hospital lights and the screeching tones of monitors beeping. The monotone rhythm reminded you of the slowly dripping water and high pitched ring of Ruiz’s hideout. </span>
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  <span>“Woah woah pretty girl, pretty girl. Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Morgan put one hand on your shoulder and one on your lower back and eased you back down onto the hospital bed, your gown bunching up behind you and causing you to wrigle and shift in your bed. Your eyes darted around the room rapidly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where is he, is he okay, holy fuck is he alive. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-wha. Sp-Spencer” You tried to get words out, looking into Morgan's eyes with fear, pupils blown and shaking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s okay sweetheart, he’s okay, how are you feeling?” it was Penelope. She reached out and interlaced her fingers with yours and your heartbeat slowly returned to a normal pace, the rapid beeping of your heart monitor slowing down. Once you started to relax, your head started pounding and you reached up to your brow bone, rubbing your fingers into your eye sockets.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine. My head hurts. Fuck, what happened? Where’s Spencer?” you said with closed eyes, each of your words hanging in the silent air. Nobody was answering you, and when you opened your eyes in question, Morgan and Penelope just looked at you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s going on, why isn’t anyone saying anything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penelope took a deep breath and looked between you and Morgan. “I told Derek about what I overheard on the phone between you two yesterday.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterday… yesterday? Oh, yesterday. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe because everything isn’t about you Y/N. Did you think about that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at Morgan for reassurance before placing her gaze back on you. “Y/N, I don’t know what's going on between you and the good doctor but I’ve never seen someone so destroyed as you were yesterday. Your entire face changed after Ruiz died, I… I don’t know why or how Spencer has affected you so much, but you need to know that we’re here for you. You’re part of our family now, Y/N and we aren’t going to press you to talk if you don’t want to, but if there’s something we should know, something going on between you two, you need to at least tell us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You only spent a few moments in silence before you replied. “Nothing’s going on. We had a professional disagreement and I made an insensitive comment about his attitude recently. I didn’t know about the drugs until Ruiz brought them up. What you heard was two people who aren’t good at apologies or admitting to their wrongdoings.” you snapped slightly at Penny and she recoiled her hand from yours. You looked up at Morgan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is he, I need to see him, I need to talk to him.” you spoke directly to Morgan, fear building up inside of you and presenting itself as harsh impatience.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Morgan gestured out the sliding glass door and towards the room across the hall from you, and before he could even utter a word your legs were swinging off the edge of the hospital bed, and you had unplugged the wires that attached you to the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stumbling out of your room in your hospital gown was, admittedly, slightly a pathetic sight, but you were too focused on Spencer to really care. Your fingers gingerly came in contact with the plexiglass door, and most of the handsome boy was covered up by a curtain. You were going to knock on the door to alert him of your presence, but it shifted open automatically and as soon as you took a step forward, closed quickly behind you. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spence?” your hand reached out, like it had in the sunflower field, and parted the hanging curtains that separated you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even like this, bandaged up and bruised, he was a sight for sore eyes. Your heart was at rest seeing him look up at you with boy-like innocence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And there it was again, that pretty little half smile, his hand coming a few inches off the bed in an attempted wave. “Hi.” his voice cracked, not out of sadness but like his throat was slightly dry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You made your way over to his hospital bed, checking to make sure the curtains were closed behind you, and you took his hand into your lap, fiddling with his fingers and then intertwining them with yours. Neither of you needed to say anything. He looked directly into your eyes and apologized with his stare. His gaze was soft and his eyes were slightly glassy like he’d been tearing up. He swallowed and spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N. I need to tell you about something. Something happened to me a few years ago.” he started</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spence I know about the dilaudid.” he looked startled. His brow relaxed and he looked up at you again with those doe eyes of his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” his voice kept cracking and your heart felt like it was going to crumble. You held onto his hand a little tighter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruiz talked about it after you passed out. I remembered this book I studied in university, it talked about the effects of opioids on human behavior. Looking back on it, I should have known Spence. I’m sorry, I was so blinded by guilt over our fight I just assumed everything was about me. Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay I just need to tell you something.” he paused and you nodded, trying to show that you really wanted to hear what he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, I wasn’t really in my right mind in the bar that night. Morgan has been trying to get me to be more of a “playa”” he giggled quietly and smiled to himself. “I figured if I went out and tried to meet someone, maybe I’d loosen up. I made the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t have the confidence to do it without help.” you tried to process what he was saying, and it hit you when he continued to speak.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N it’s not that I don’t like you. The second I saw you I couldn’t stop looking at you. But you might have gathered it’s not exactly like me to randomly “hook up” with people.” the modern term sounded a little funny coming from the technophobe’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When you said you expected me over for sex… I guess I thought what I really feared was true. I- I was scared that you wouldn’t like me for me, that you just wanted to hook up. I knew that without the… help… I wouldn’t be able to provide what you wanted.” he swallowed sharply. “I-I got scared, I ran off. Y/N, I’m sorry. I just wanted you to like me.” a gentle tear ran down his cheek and you instinctively moved your hand to rub it away. His hand met yours on his temple and you held it there, rubbing circles on his sideburn with your thumb. You looked down at your lap, where his other hand was clasped in yours.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sudden sound of the plexi-glass door sliding open queued your exit, jumping away from Spencer and opening the curtain to see Morgan and Prentiss, Garcia standing outside the doors a few feet behind them. You softly smiled and brushed by them, hearing Morgan chuckling and calling out for “Pretty Boy” as you walked back to your room. You could still feel the warmth of Spencer’s hand on yours, it’s absence making your skin feel freezing cold. But your heart was warm. </span>
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